


who's afraid of the big bad wolf

by Emeka



Series: mega-fucked stuff [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Extremely Underage, Incest, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 15:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/pseuds/Emeka
Summary: i was seven-- alice marie





	who's afraid of the big bad wolf

He hadn't known there was a wolf in his family until years later.

Tiny bare feet on the hardwood floor. Opening the door to his bedroom. Almost everything familiar and okay even in the dark. He is younger than at least the third grade but night has never really scared him except for unseen spiders. And later, wolves.

Nightvision picks up the slightest sight, outlining things in grey and silver. The little desk and chair he seriously does his arts and crafts at opposite the door. The single bed against the wall to his right under which he has or one day will hide with the household cat's newborn kittens with all his blankets, loving their soft fat bellies and squeaks.

The non-light settles, limns the wolf across his bed.

It's a joke. Get off, he says, smiling, but also a little indignant. He is a private child, and possessive of his things. His bed especially is his alone.

Refusal.

It's bedtime. How am I supposed to sleep?

Some unimportant words, blather. Maybe even wolves need to gather their courage. It all comes to the same anyway. The soft weird thing he takes out of his pants. Suck.

He's so short he doesn't have to go on his knees to do it. There's maybe some more indignant protest (that's your pee-pee) but no awareness really. Not even in the third-grade yet, he has not learned about no-no places or stranger danger. And even if he had, they probably would not have helped, because this isn't just any wolf; this wolf is related to him by marriage to his mother, making him his father, and good children always do what their parents say.

The flabby pink thing reminds him of sucking on his pencil erasers. 

Harder. 

Did it take forever or a very short time? He was young, then, and has forgotten a lot. He's forgotten other things since he became wiser and the wolf kept creeping to his bed in the dead of night. The stuff in the middle everyone wants to know about. Virginity is a social construct! people say and it makes him so angry he could _barf_ because he doubts they've ever had to wonder the things he does.

Ejaculation occurs. He goes to the toilet and tries to spit it out, disgusted only because he thinks the wolf peed in his mouth. It clings to the walls of his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. Even the feel of his own saliva will be forever repulsive to him after this. Compulsive spitting in private, or depositing it onto the back of his hand and wiping it onto his clothes. God forbid he have to cough up a loogie.

The light in here is on, bright and yellow. His bedroom to the right. A curtain separates the left entrance from his parent's room. His mom was probably out with her friends. The wolf was always boldest then, especially this early on. It mattered less when they moved later, into a two-story house. His bedroom was always on a separate floor from theirs.

They move over back in the dark, through his bedroom, back out into the living room.

We've done something bad. We have to pray for forgiveness.

They kneel together in front of the couch. He folds his hands in front of him. The first stirrings of unease. Who is we? What has he done wrong? All he wanted was to go to sleep. It's bedtime. He's the one who got his mouth peed in. All he did was do what he was told.

Their family goes to church every Sunday. It's always been a vague kind of affair that he resents. Everyone knows more than him, even the other children. At least with the grown-ups he could stand in the pews and daydream, but kiddie church is all activities and tests on things he has never been taught. Later, he realized, his parents cared more about seeming like good religious folk than in him being knowledgable.

He knows the posture of prayer, and that Jesus died for our sins. The rest of it, he lets the wolve's words flow numbly over his head. Again it feels he has been forced into something he doesn't really understand.

**Author's Note:**

> i was seven-- alice marie


End file.
